King Hoff the Faultless
Gatern hunched forward in his saddle as he surveyed the battlefield before him. The enemy force was gathered now, not close enough to make out their numbers but close enough to see the tattered Jurtish banners fluttering desperately in the wind.Behind him his own cavalry stood ready, spearheads and shields gleaming in the harsh sunlight. It had been seventeen years since Pelor had grown so unforgiving; hanging loftily in the sky while scorching the land below. Kurtsdale had been prepared for such a drought; the Jurtish had not been so ready. Pure desperation; that was what had driven the Jurtish to war. Even here, so close to the heart of Jurt, what had once been lush grasslands was now dry and Parched, the brittle grass cracking under the boots of Hoff's advancing troops. Gatern glanced to his right where his king sat statuesque, apparently unperturbed despite being clad in thick steel plate under the sweltering heat. Hoff always seemed to maintain his composure; Gatern had never seen him panic or falter, not once. Even Hoff's father Loth, a great king in his own right who Gatern had served under faithfully, had succumbed to trepidation and fear at times. Hoff was different; it seemed to Gatern that something set him apart, not just his royal blood but something greater. Gatern studied Hoff's face briefly. He was still a young man, not yet thirty but his features were hard and weathered, eyes forever affixed on the road ahead. The king lifted his sword, signalling for silence among his men. As Hoff rallied his men his words carried across the battlefield effortlessly. "Jurt has been brought low by the ineffable glare of Pelor himself, before you stand the last of her armies. They are tired. They are broken. They have stood to long in the sun and have ventured to pillage and steal the lands of our half-height allies. Beyond them is the Palace of Pearl, their last bastion. Beyond them lie victory and riches and glory untold! In the name of your king and the Ten! Conquest!" With a dragon's roar the army surged forward, the king with them. Gatern's horse quickly gathered speed as he signalled his men to curl round the Jurtish flank. He stayed at Hoff's side as they crashed into the enemy lines. From his horse Gatern swung down wildly at the Jurtish troops, his enchanted mace crushing steel and bone alike. From the corner of his eye he noticed the sweep of a halberd and raised his shield to deflect the blow. Gatern's shield arm was not as fast as it once was and the halberd impacted with his pauldron, knocking him from his mount. A sharp pain shot through his leg as he struggled to his feet and turned to face his attacker. The man was suited in fine plate and from the emblem emblazoned on his sky-blue tabard Gatern recognized him as one of Queen Reute's own guards. His foe stared him down but his attention became diverted. Gatern followed his gaze and saw his king, now on foot, in combat with the two more Queen's Guards. Gatern had seen Hoff in battle before but his awe had never diminished. Hoff wove around the other combatants, almost a blur; every arc was deadly, every footfall precise. The guard who had been facing Gatern turned away and made to attack Hoff. Gatern moved to stop him but stumbled as he did. He looked down to see that his foot had landed on an upturned arrow, the jagged tip piercing upwards through his sabaton. Gatern forced himself forward, trying to get to Hoff as the guard approached him from behind. Hoff was still in combat with another guard, their swords locked against each other as the third guard lunged with his halberd. Hoff twisted his neck away, eyes wide and teeth gritted. The blow was unavoidable; just before it landed Hoff released one hand from the grip of his sword and raised it, open palmed, into the attack. As the tip connected the head of the halberd bent and deformed against Hoff's palm; the haft twisted, splintered and snapped as the guard was suddenly blown back by an invisible force. Hoff turned back to the other man, knocking his blade aside and slicing into his side. The guard sank to the ground as the last one turned to flee. Gatern looked around him as other Jurtish soldiers began to break and turn tail. Hoff now stood still, chest heaving with breath and sword planted in the ground; his attention already turned towards the gleaming white spires on the horizon. Gatern did not understand the powers that allowed Hoff to do what he did, nor did he understand what drove him so inexorably forward but he knew that wherever his king went, he would follow.Category:HumanCategory:HoffendaleCategory:Characters